


deep blue, but you painted me golden

by OfHerCelestialBodies



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Class Differences, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), POV Third Person Limited, Trauma, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfHerCelestialBodies/pseuds/OfHerCelestialBodies
Summary: Ophélie is a rich, young girl of nobility with nothing out of her reach.Finnigan is a loud and confident commoner boy who has to work for necessities to survive.When their paths cross, neither of them expected to fall in love. If only they knew of the dangerous obstacles headed their way.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	deep blue, but you painted me golden

**Author's Note:**

> hoooooh boy. i kinda went ham and just poof. this story came out. ngl i think it's okay heehee. anyways um, this is an original character short story. please grab your drinks and sad music about lost love and shiz like that. Ophélie is pronounced "oh-Fay-lee," btw.
> 
> ANYWAYS just a lil quick description of the characters... even though... they're described.
> 
> Ophélie- average female height, slender but not overly physically active, tan/ light caramel skin, green eyes, long, honey blonde hair to about her forearm. 
> 
> Finnigan/Finn- tall male height. slender, physically fit. peach/light neural skin, medium brown eyes, wavy, fluffy reddish brown hair. lots of freckles on his face. a small scar on his cheekbone.
> 
> heeeheee so yeah! uhm, enjoy? <3
> 
> (btw talking to the moon by bruno mars hits w/ this story at a... specific part...)  
> And yes the title is Taylor Swift.

The sun had started to fade upon the land, the radiant, hazy rays sending a good-night blast of warm, summer sun along the green hills and ominous trees of the forest. 

"Daddy?"

"Yes, darling?"

Ophélie stared up at her father from under her billowy sheets. The sunset twinkled through her window like her very own emerald eyes, full of wonder and kid-like innocence.

"Can we see that new merchant tomorrow? He's selling pretty jewelry!"

"I suppose we can." The middle-aged man said with some bitter distaste. 

She never knew why he had always hated her going out. He always said yes to her pleas, but with such a furrowed annoyance that it became normal of him to respond that way. Always accompanied by some burly force with a shining metal blade at their hip, the world according to Ophélie was filled with walls of dark leather and swords, and jewels and riches. She didn't know why she was so deserving of constant gifts. Her father said she was special and deserved the world. If that was the case, why hadn't he seized the whole land for her? She never complained though, jewels were apparently a good girls best friend… and they were the only friend she knew and had. Nothing was out of her reach; she was promised gifts, love, beauty, talent and even a husband at the age of eighteen. Her view of the outdoor world beyond her guards and constant presents was scarred, but how were she to know that? She wasn't allowed to see the poverty of the streets around her. Her eyes were shut to the poor, she always turned a blind eye; her opinions jaded and veiled from the truth.

"Ophélie, you must never let those rats on the streets look at you. You are special. You are richer and better than them."

"Ophélie, keep your eyes up darling. Don't let the vermin see you."

"Oh, you sweet girl… if only you knew what they would do to you if you were sent out there alone…"

Those phrases were constant in the young girl's life. She didn't understand them at all, who were the rats? Who were the vermin? She never admitted it, but those thoughts dumbfounded her, and left her feeling plain stupid. 

Despite it all, she had never felt anymore precious or deserving than anyone else. Nonetheless, everyone thought she was so special, and that the world revolved around her.

And only if she had known, that someone out there would feel just as special as everyone made her out to be, by simply knowing her and loving her unconditionally… but how much it cost in return.

* * *

The kindly merchant waved happily, as Ophélie and her father left the booth. The girl peered at the bracelet on her wrist, new and shiny like everything else that seemed to appear in her lavish life. 

"Thank you, daddy," she said quietly, peering at the man through her lashes. 

"It was merely a gift. You deserve it," he replied calmly. His gaze wandered above her and through the crowds of the market. They surveyed about analytically, his own matching green eyes like a feline. Suddenly, their peaceful march halted. She heard the leather clad brutes yelling.

"Father?" Ophélie rang out, tugging on his coat. 

"Not now, darling." 

It was confusing. The yelling went on for a while, and then there was a sword gleaming in the sun; a shove and screaming. She was eventually pushed along, her own eyes a glaze as the screaming rushed through her ears. Ophélie turned, and through her tendrils of gold she saw a bleeding man and a crowd of dirty people, with glares of hatred on their face. They penetrated her once happy, innocent grace and for the first time in her life, she felt afraid. 

"What was that?" She asked, clinging onto his arm, her eyes like the surface of a crystal and mouth in a firm line. Her father smiled, grabbing her clinging hand with tenderness.

"It was nothing… you're too young to understand, my sweet."

"He is bleeding…"

Her father looked at her, but not with the same adoration. Instead, it was cold and harsh, like the blistering winters that their land was accustomed to. He let go of her tiny hand, and whispered harshly, "I told you to keep your head high… and eyes away. It's better that way."

"But… why is he-"

" _Ophélie!_ Enough."

"Yes, Father…" she murmured, as the ever going march stopped in front of another merchant's shop. Her eyes began to wonder now, she wanted to go home. It was so close, she could simply run and then, she could be in her room, stuffed under her silky, purple sheets in no time. But, oh, how much trouble she would be in if she ran.

As her eyes gazed with tiredness, she noticed a group of children in the distance. Climbing upon barrels and boxes, the children jumped around, swishing sticks and chanting in triumph. Their giggles made her envious, she wanted that freedom. But she knew she could have anything, and children were harmless… so perhaps, he would let her play with them… even only for a few minutes in time. She turned to her father, who browsed the wares, his brow arched as if nothing was good enough for his tastes.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Ophélie?" 

"Can I go play with those children? Please?"

He turned to her pointing arm, and sighed. "Fine, but only for a short while… The guards will be watching from here."

"Thank you, daddy!"

Her father smiled weakly, ruffling her blonde locks and watching her skip away.

The young girl neared the group, and said hello. Immediately they turned and smiled. Some looked her up and down, wondering why such a nicely dressed girl wanted to spend time with them. She was given a stick, and explained the premises of the story. Swashbuckling pirates and rogues they were, as she rushed through the crowd with the kids. She felt happy, the odd feeling in her stomach dissipating as she poked her stick in the air; the blue sky felt as if it would fall at her will. The kids exclaimed that she had to see the captain to be sworn in. Crawling through a mess of barrels, she ducked and climbed and noticed a boy atop a box, talking with some other make believers. 

"Cap'n! We have a new pirate!" A brunette girl yelled. The boy turned, and immediately Ophélie felt sparks and a wonderous, new curiosity. His smile radiated warmth, and his freckles reflected the summer sun. 

"Welcome aboard, lassy!" He chanted in a gruff tone, winking. His auburn waves fell upon his brows, as he handed her a tiny, worn badge. "Your official pirate badge."

"Thank you… Captain..."

"Finnigan, but you can call me Finn."

She smiled, tracing the badge with her thumb, "Ophélie."

"Oh, you're the rich girl! Well then, you can't be a pirate!" He commented with a smug smile.

Ophélie frowned. Perhaps the group of kids were different from what she expected.

"You're the beautiful pirate enchantress! Hail thee enchanting Ophélie everyone," Finn exclaimed, raising his stick in the air as the kids chanted and hollered in agreement. With a grin, he grabbed her hand and whisked her away into a cloud of adventure.

When she had gone home, her cheeks rosy and shoes worn and muddy, she told her father of how nice the children were. She told little, but enough to satisfy. She never told him of the jumping and climbing, and the bruise on her knee. She never told him of the foul pirate language and sharp sticks. But out of it all, she never told him of Finn. He welcomed her, made her feel new and different. He said he would tell her things that she didn't know and understand yet. He wanted to open her eyes to the world… and that's all she wanted. 

And so, her life had started to change. Day by day, she played with her newly found friends, a new adventure every hour. Dirty knees and torn dresses, she enjoyed every single bit of her time even if she was bound for a scolding. But most of all, she enjoyed what Finn taught her. The world became darker, but clearer too. She learned of the world around her and what she had been told not to see--- and it had all started to make sense. Feeling betrayed, she never told her father of her discoveries, and kept up her act of selfish innocence and naivety. But as she continued her secret, twisted act of blindness to life, more gifts came, with more consequences to follow. It was time she became a lady, her father always had said. The gifts were a bribe. A piano, to learn and become talented and more graceful. A long, silk dress and heels used for dancing and the proper walk. A lady was supposed to be poised, quiet and graceful. She was all that and more, her father was proud of her, but she wasn't proud of herself. Her insides were churning with a fire that wanted to be released. Some nights, she wished to escape and let that fire roar. She wished she could have been born in another life, with Finn and the kids, where they had no responsibility to uphold and no father to take after. She didn't want to be like him, something in her said he wasn't all he said he was. Darkness lurked under the exterior, his brash stance and darting eyes the colour of envy gave it away. His meetings were hush. She dared not to ask, she knew he would just push her away. 

With all hope, she prayed upon the stars and wished that one day, maybe things would change. 

* * *

Nine years had passed and bloomed, Ophélie along with it. A blonde beauty of seventeen, her presence graced every room she walked into, or so her father said. Tan skin and emerald eyes gleaming with the lumbering rays that shone upon the lands, men from other noble homes gravitated towards her. Her father was delighted at this, a chance to marry his beautiful daughter in gain to unite two houses and prosper. But Ophélie despised it, she knew she was to be married to someone when she was young, it was a promise to her. She had imagined a fairytale knight sweeping her off her feet, but now? It felt like a disgusting, phony contract, another silly bribe.

Thinking about it made her stomach toss, how could she possibly conform to her father's wants when she not only hated the very thought of being shipped off like a parcel to a stranger, but when she was hopelessly and madly in love with someone else?

Ophélie heard a knock on her window, taking her out of her somber state. Quietly, she drew back the linen curtains and saw a familiar face. Finn sat at the window, with a quirk in his brow and a boyish smile, the one she adored so much, on his lips. 

"Your prince is here," Finn exclaimed boisterously, rolling his hazelnut-coloured eyes. Ophélie couldn't help but giggle.

Over the years, as they grew, a love had started to form and grow with them. It was odd and new, like a fresh cut wound, but their budding love healed the sting of their personal lives and their fears of the new, wild feeling. The children, young and older all gravitated towards Finn, and even the tiny ones could tell how much he loved her. The way he looked her in the eyes, and the faint rosy tinge on his cheeks that formed whenever she brushed against him… it made her feel giddy and like a kid on their birthday. It had been sunset, after his work for the day, when he took her aside and held her hands. He took her face and kissed her long and slow, before whispering a simple _I love you._ In that moment, everything covered in gold and jewels that was in her reach didn't compare to the desire and love she felt. With a simple, four word reply back, she had kissed him too and they held another as the sky was painted with hues of orange and yellow. It had only been a year, but their relationship felt brand new. It was their secret to keep and to cherish, for as long as they could.

Ophélie opened the window and Finn hopped inside. "Well, good evening, Mr. Prince. What do I owe you on this fi- mmph!" Ophélie began, her sentence paused by a soft kiss upon her lips. 

"I'm sorry, Lee, but I had to see you," Finn muttered, his tall stature pressed against her body as his fingertips roamed her waist. He pressed another kiss on her lips, and another. Their lips mangled together in a quick dance, and Ophélie let out a soft whimper as she pulled away. 

"Finn… you are not normally like this… is something wrong?" She asked, her hands curling around the nape of his neck. Finn shook his head.

"No, nothing's wrong. It's your eighteenth birthday in three days… and I have an early gift for you… that's all," Finn said quietly, stepping away and pulling out a small blue box. He sat upon her bed, and guided her to his lap, where he handed her the tiny present.

"Finn… I told you, I don't need any gifts."

Finn shrugged, his hands winding through her long sun-kissed locks, "Just open it, Ophélie."

She sighed, curling up on his lap closer to him as she tore open the haphazard lines that made up the wrapping. A small, white card sat upon the top.

" _To my love, my sunshine, my Ophélie,"_

An entwined metal band sat upon the bottom, a simple green jewel perched in the middle. She gasped.

"Finn… it is lovely… I couldn't ask for more," she said sweetly, pecking him on the cheek. Finnigan shifted, his eyes honed in on the ring. 

"Um, Ophélie, there's a reason I got you this ring."

Ophélie raised a blonde brow, smiling curiously, "And whatever may that be?"

Finn scratched at the small scar on his cheekbone, a habit he had, especially when he was nervous. 

"When you turn eighteen, you are supposed to be married to some man I don't know…"

"Finn---"

"Ophélie, listen. I- I can't have that happen. I love you too damn much to let you go… so I got you this ring to ask, if you wanted to run away with me."

"What?" 

"Run away with me," Finn said, grabbing the ring from its blue home and placing it upon her ring finger. He held her hand to his beating heart, "We'll be married… and we can run away together from here… you don't have to marry a snob and all those mangy rich folks who hate me won't have to see my face anymore."

Ophélie stared at his worn hands, holding her soft ones. She had never worked a day in her life. Finn was tormented daily by malicious rich snobs who believed he was a disposable piece of nothingness. Despite it all, he still found time to play with the street children and raise their spirits and love Ophélie unconditionally. Finnigan truly loved her and she loved him. Every waking hour, she thought of nothing but him. The thought of waking up to him instead, her lover, made her smile.

"I will," she replied, without any hesitation. She wanted this. Her father would think her absolutely mad and foolish if he ever found out, but she didn't care one bit. 

"Tomorrow then… tomorrow night, we will sneak away into the darkness and they will never know where we went."

They fell upon one another, smiling like kids at their secret plan. Oh, how she wished everything they said and did wasn't some secret that had to be hidden. But if it meant keeping their love intact, then it had to be kept that way. Sheets over their bodies, their lips crashed and limbs tangled. At that moment, it was only them. 

* * *

Breakfast at the mansion was eerily quiet. Her father watched her, while he sipped at his black brew.

"Ophélie?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"I heard something up in your room, it sounded… odd. What was it?"

Ophélie looked at her lap, "I hurt my toe on my bedside, so I let out a yell... but it is quite alright now… " 

"Ah…"

Silence again. Ophélie hummed to herself, picking up her silverware to spoon a mouthful of creamed oats. 

"Ophélie. Tomorrow, the day before your eighteenth day of birth, a suitor is coming. I understand that you may feel hesitant about me picking your husband, but out of many nobles, he is fantastic. Not only is he handsome and charming enough for my special girl, but he is surely to side with us if things get… Ah- nevermind. Regardless, I believe you'll enjoy him."

 _Enjoy him._ Like he was some toy? If anything, he really was some toy in her father's game he played for her. She wouldn't even be there to see the poor fool, "I see…" Ophélie muttered.

"Sit straight. We do not want him thinking we're some poor slouch excuse of nobility."

"Sorry, daddy."

"And darling? No going out today. I know you love reading stories to the children, but I can't afford some street vermin preying on you the day before a suitor arrives."

Dropping her spoon into her clean dish, she nodded, "Fine, daddy."

She stood up, fixing the wrinkle in her morning dressing gown. Staring at her father, she frowned.

"Father? What did you mean by… siding with us?"

He looked up at her. The ugly distaste and coldness in his stare was back again. She knew exactly what his response was going to be.

"Nevermind, darling. Head up and eyes away, remember? Besides, it's nothing a daughter should be concerned with."

"I understand… I must change now… maybe I will practice a song on the piano," Ophélie said softly, flashing a kindly smile before scurrying away.

She hoped that everything would go right that day, she didn't want to be forced to play dumb and innocent with some suitor. Most were fine, but some only wanted money… and some, well, they only thought a woman was good for one thing, and that's what most wanted from her. It infuriated her. No man should think he owns a woman and her beauty solely because he is infatuated with her exterior. Besides, if it was up to her, she'd only let one man touch her. Oh, but if her father knew that her hurt toe was a lie, and that specific man was in her room last night, touching her all over like he had many times before, he would be enraged.

Ophélie was distracted. So very much distracted. She almost put on her dress backwards, nearly pulled a handful of her hair out from brushing and could barely concentrate on the keys. The song sounded more like a goose than a ballad. All she wanted was for night to fall, so Finn could steal her away and they could live like a knight and a princess from her childhood fairytales.

Angry at her quaking fingers and giddy excitement, she stood near the window, watching the bustling streets filled with merchants, children and frantic adults. They travelled in crowds, worming their way through the square as people yelled and advertised their wares. She thought of the bracelet and the bleeding man again. They were always in her thoughts, like a disoriented nightmare. But then she remembered that was the day she met Finnigan and that everything seemingly got better.

Nightfall finally had come. Ophélie hadn't packed much. Just the usual things that she would need until they found a place to stay. She quickly changed into a comfortable ankle length dress, and tied a woolen cape around her shoulders. Finally, she slipped on the beautiful banded ring. The green stone caught the light of her candle. Slipping on her best pair of shoes for walking, she disappeared from her room, the one she grew up in and knew so well. It felt bittersweet, staring at the gifts and things she had to let go of. 

She moved swiftly and quietly through the mansion, careful not to make much noise. Her father was in a meeting, which she believed had worked out to her favour. At the back door of the large home, she met Finn. He had a pouch over his shoulder, his fingers rough and dirty from his daily, toiling work. 

"Ready?" He asked.

"Ready."

"Before we go, I have to say bye to the kiddos… they'll miss us," Finn said softly, his fingers lacing with Ophélie's.

They found their way to the "hidden hangout," a spot behind the barrels where the children watched the stars at night. When they saw Finn, they jumped up and clamoured. 

"Shh!" He hissed, but with a silly grin on his face. 

"The pretty story lady is with you," a young boy whispered, giving a toothless smile. 

"Yeah, she is. Now listen guys, I'm going to be gone for a long while," Finn said, crouching down. The children climbed around him, staring at one another with pouts.

"Why? Where are you going?" Many asked. Finn sighed, his eyes finding their way to Ophélie's face.

"I am going away to marry her. Her dad doesn't like me, and wants her to marry a stinky rich man instead. We love each other lots, and want to be together… so we are running away."

The kids stared at Ophélie with awe, giving mixed looks of confusion and admiration. 

"Now, guys. You have to remember to be big and strong, watch out for the mean men with swords and stick together. Keep each other safe, okay?" 

They nodded, hugging together. 

Finn smiled. She swore she saw a tear in his eye, as he looked at her. Saying their last goodbyes, they snuck through the square and through the thick trees and shrubbery.

Ophélie looked at her home one last time, the tall castle-like fortress looming. Immediately, the guilt and shame in her stomach dissipated, as she turned to Finn in delight.

"We did it… we're out," he said, pulling his lover close. He kissed her lips delicately, his mouth starting to roam along her face and eventually her neckline.

"Finn… we are not going to go anywhere if you keep… ah-" 

"I just wanna celebrate…"

Ophélie giggled, sucking in a breath as Finn's hands worked their way around her curves while he sucked on her neck.

" _Fiiiinnnn_. We must go before …" 

There was a sudden sharp yell. Turning, a leather guard stood near the bush, his face scrunched in disgust. Their eyes widened at the sight. 

Her heart clamoured as he yelled a signal, loud enough for the whole village to hear. She heard Finn yell, as he started to drag her away, but not quick enough, as the guard lunged forward with his gleaming blade. Finn hissed angrily and then she felt her eyes snap back and feet begin to sprint. Shaking her head, the beating of her heart ringing in her ears, she heard shouting and footsteps… were they her own?

She looked ahead at Finn, his hand crumpled against his hip. His breath heavy and ragged, he dropped his knapsack and yelled for her to do the same. 

She was scared, so she did. Ophélie had never felt this type of fright before. Turning behind her, she saw torch light, and men running in a herd, their blades and spears like death's warning.

"Finn!"

"Just… keep… running."

"Ah! You are wounded!"

"We can't stop to tend… to my wounds… just… run!"

She couldn't believe it. The guards who were sworn to protect her and the village were chasing after her and had hurt a citizen. Her feet began to ache and her chest burned with every pounding step. Was this really happening? Was this her reality? Maybe it was a dream? Why wasn't she waking up from this damned nightmare?

The ringing in her ears didn't end. She coughed and nearly tripped, her legs were so tired. The guards wouldn't let up. Suddenly, she heard a new noise, a horse. The hooves melted into the ground as they grew closer, and closer, and closer.

She felt her body pulled from Finn; levitating almost. She screamed and kicked, yelling his name. She heard his voice calling for her too and suddenly everything went dark with a flurry of leather. A stampede of horses around her, the voices got louder. 

Her heart thumped loudly as she screamed. The blood rising in her throat choked her and her tears stung her face.

"Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him." she heard herself screaming. The horse she had been pulled upon turned and trotted away. She couldn't see her Finn… her sweet Finn… where had he gone? 

And then she realized the worst.

The swords. The spears. The horses.

Ah.

They killed him. 

Slaughtered. 

Decimated.

Murdered. 

She couldn't hold it in.

She wailed at the top of her lungs, screaming his name in hopes that he was right beside her and that he was the one on the horse and they were riding away. Kicking and flailing, the blonde hit and punched at the horseman fiercely. The tears never stopped.

Eventually the horseman stopped at the mansion and carried her blubbering, shaking body inside. She couldn't form a coherent thought, a word, a sentence. When she was placed into her father's embrace, all she could do was stare wide-eyed, shaking.

The night was dead and silent. They gave her a bath to scrub off the dirt and sweat from her body. They gave her tea to drink to calm her nerves. They gave her a soft night dress to wear and tucked her into her sheets.

The word has already spread. The poor girl had been kidnapped. She was taken from her room and he forced her to grab some expensive belongings that he could sell after he killed her. Some sleazy rogue forced himself on her, but now he's dead, so it's all okay.

But he wasn't a rogue.

He was Finnigan. 

The captain of the children.

The most hard working man she had ever met.

Her best friend. Her companion. Her lover.

Her Finn.

And for everything that she had gone through that night, she let the roaring flames out.

She screamed.

* * *

Four years.

It had been four years. 

The nightmare never ended. That nightmare became her reality. She was numb, paralyzed, weak. Her father had watched her deteriorate in front of him, and he could do nothing but let her. The suitors stopped coming, they weren't interested in a traumatized woman. The people of the village assumed the ordeal of her kidnapping had scarred her. What a lie that was. But she couldn't say otherwise, it was too late now. 

She tried hard to forget him. Her only love. How could she? She couldn't dare love again. It would be betrayal. 

Every night she looked out to the night sky, weeping until her eyes were dry. She pleaded, prayed, screamed… all for the same thing. For Finn to come back. She missed his embrace, his laugh, his hands and eyes and how they all made her feel alive, like a spark, a burst of lightning. Now, she was merely a hanging, dark cloud, ready to burst. No one was ready to dance in her rainstorm. 

When she did leave her room and accompany her father outdoors, people commented and whispered on her tarnished beauty. They said she was crazy; a lunatic.

She was like a ghost. Floating, terrifying and haunting. The chains weighing her down held her in a prison of horror and madness. A frail, broken girl. If only that horrendous incident had never occurred. 

If only.

She had looked at her father and thought, " _head up and eyes away, am I right daddy?_ " It seemed perfect now, since she was now inspected and observed as some freak.

But three years earlier, they had to leave. She didn't understand why, until her father explained that allying themself with her potential suitor would provide protection from their rival noble home. Politics, she never understood. But bloodshed? She knew well enough. She watched the village burn and crumble to ashes, as her and her coward father fled to their secret stronghold. No more of her comfy home, where she learned to play the piano, where she watched the stars and admired the streets, where she and Finn shared their love for the first time. It was all gone. And all because her father had gotten into one fight that he couldn't get out of. No more stares from the villagers. No more stares from anyone anymore. They were dead. What a tragic fate they all had suffered. Everywhere she went, the damned raincloud followed. 

_Let me turn back the hands of time, please,_ she had thought. Clenching her fists until marks from her fingernails were embedded into the flesh, she knew all of her weeping and hopelessness would get her nowhere.

Maybe, it was time to forget. And move on.

Just maybe.

But no, she couldn't. Finn… he was her rope… her guideline. 

And was she ever so lost without him.

Four years.

That day, down in the stronghold, where she had begun to live like the commoner filth her father had described, that day was the anniversary of his demise. 

Four years.

She sat upon the floor, dirtied and alone. The ring had never left her finger.

The wallowing has become less, and her father said her beauty had come back, even more so than before. 

The guards must have been lonely too. Young and even the old and matured, they all at least once attempted to saddle up to the lady. 

I can make you happy. There's no need to cry. You just need a man.

Twenty-one years old, and still unmarried. No suitors were lined up for her. Her riches burned and reputation tarnished. One would think that she would accept their advances, to numb the pain of Finn. But her faith was so strong. She would wait until the dawn of time--- until her own death, just to be with him.

Brushing back her long, golden hair, her fingers reached along her hips and waist gingerly, hoping that her hands could feel like Finn's and that maybe, he could be with her. 

She could just see him now.

Tall and handsome, his arms, now muscular from his hard labour, wrapped around her. His strong, worn hands touching her hair, her back and her face. His forehead against hers. The freckles. Yearning hazelnut eyes. The soft, twisting locks of auburn. The scar on his cheekbone. 

Lips on hers, she could feel him. Soon enough, he was gone. She reached out. 

"Miss Ophélie! Prepare yourself, the stronghold is under attack!" A guard suddenly chanted, entering her wall of solitude. 

She stood up, dusting off her brown, ankle dress. Twisting at her ring, she let out a shaky breath. 

Following the guard in a quick-paced walk, she thought of that night. It made her sick. More guards had caught up with Ophélie, their swords drawn from every angle. She should have felt safe. But she didn't. There was a part of her that wanted one of their silver blades to enter her flesh and end her sorrow. Life had changed too fast for her liking, and all because of a forbidden love. Now, that life she was born into had taken her and thrown her into a state of panic. 

Looking up, she felt tears forming. That raincloud. Why couldn't it engulf her? Its arms were safe and cold. In her solidarity, that is where she felt she belonged. 

Suddenly the group swayed like a ripple in the ocean, her body was chucked against the wall as the dark guards began to yell in fear and rage. One by one they fell like dominoes, until she was alone, staring at several bandits, their eyes full of malice. Raising a dagger, she felt a scream erupt from her insides as she started to sprint. Their footsteps were not far. As she ran, she found it odd. She had just wanted a blade to slice her bit by bit, but now, she wasn't so sure. If she were to die, she wanted it to be peaceful and she wanted to be sure of her death. This felt all too familiar. 

The tunnels swallowed her whole as she ran, her hair caught along her face and neck, the tendrils wrapped around her throat like a noose as she searched behind her. The bandits were gone, but she couldn't stop. Not yet. 

The end of the tunnel was near, she could see the enormous wooden frame. She could slip through, into the forests. They wouldn't catch her this time.

Breaking through, sweat clung to her warm skin. She gulped in the night air, only before a ferocious smell passed her nose. Another rushing fire, crackling and orange, like the pits of hell. That fire was a she-devil, a demon that seemed to follow and destroy. A tangle of voices and moans rose through the embers, melting into the blue nothingness. 

Run. 

Run!

_Please_ , run. 

But she couldn't. Frozen. Numb. Deadening. A twinge in her stomach. The guilt was back. She couldn't leave her father. 

With a shivering breath, Ophélie crashed through the dark of the edge of the greenery and into the flames. She dove through dead bodies and discarded swords, tripping and stumbling about. Hissing at a bleeding cut on her arm, she stopped and held pressure to it.

Calling out, she searched for any familiar faces. They were outnumbered. The bodies of those she knew scattered about. Sickness rose in her throat, as a tear escaped her eye. The smell of blood and fire was revolting, it choked her. Eyes stinging from the embers and tears, she yelled again. 

Without warning, a bandit erupted from the dark, his face bloodied and illuminated by the flames. She shrieked, and attempted to run, but another arrived. Forming a circle around the lady, her airways restricted as she tried to squeal out a plea. Their smiles were devilish, as they looked her up and down, licking their lips as if she was some delectable. While deciding who would get first stab at her, the neigh of a stallion broke through the air. From the side, a black steed charged rapidly at the men and with a fell swoop, a lance came down and struck one of the men. Angrily distracted, they charged the horse, but all fell to the mysterious rider. The horse grunted as the rider pulled on the reins.

Clad in dark armor with an ominous helmet and mask, the rider sat silent and unflinching. Ophélie felt they were staring her down, deducting on whether to leave her to rot. 

"Get on."

"Excuse me?" Ophélie squeaked. 

"I said get on," the muffled voice replied gruffly. 

"How can I trust you?"

"I didn't let you get attacked and let you bleed out, did I not?"

Ophélie frowned, "No, b-"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. I am the Nightfall Rider. I will protect you until my departure. Now, get on," the cavalier interrupted as he strode over. He quickly bent an arm downwards, lifting her upon the tall steed. Wrapping her arms around their waist gingerly, the horse let out another neigh, before flying into action.

The groans and battle cries still hadn't let up. The horse dashed like a strong gale, as it rode through the raging fire. The hefty lance in their hand veered along the dirt, as they maneuvered the horse along the bodies. 

"You're looking for your father?" 

"Yes… he looks like me. I do not know if he's…" 

"Dead. It's possible."

Ophélie stared, her eyes like daggers.

"Why are you here?"

"I was looking for my sunshine," they replied softly. A dark knight, looking for something so pure and bright? Thinking of Finn's nickname for her, she sighed.

"Was?" She couldn't help but reply. The cavalier was silent, their luminous armor clinking as they suddenly strode to a halt.

"There," they said, pointing the silver towards a man. Her father. They helped her off the steed, "I will kill the rest of those rogues. Don't care for me," they commented, before riding off into the flames of the night.

"Daddy?" Ophélie called out, homing in on a limp, blond man, his chest splattered in crimson. Raising a quivering hand, her heart clamoured in her chest as she rushed to his side. Her knees stung at the impact of the ground, but she didn't care.

"Ophélie… you are alive… thank God."

"You are…"

"Bleeding… yes… I am… I won't be here for much longer, my darling."

Ophélie grabbed his dirtied hand, placing it in hers, "They will pay for this, daddy."

He chuckled, a frown on his lips, "Hopefully, they will. If anything, my darling, I am paying for _my_ sins."

"Daddy?" She questioned slowly, brows furrowed.

He coughed, his breath ragged, "Listen to me… That boy… Finn… he was never murdered…"

"What? But that is impossible, he---"

" _Ophélie._ I told them not to kill him. He was… just a boy… he- he must have died in the jail… hah- maybe he escaped. He was a persistent boy…"

"... He… he could be alive?"

"Y-yes, darling. I… I didn't let them touch him… because I knew," his eyes fluttered, his hand clasping his daughters, "I knew… that you loved him. I could see in your eyes… it- it was like when I lost your mother… you were lost, just like I was." 

Ophélie's eyes filled with tears, hitting the dirt as she sniffled, "You knew?"

"Yes… if he is alive… find him… and if he is not… I am truly sorry for causing you that immense amount of pain, my darling," he whispered, with a final cough. His eyes started to open and shut slower.

"Ophélie? I love you, my darling."

His body went limp, his hand falling from her grasp. Sniffling, Ophélie kissed his wrinkled cheek.

"You too, daddy…" 

Holding his cold hand, she wiped the seeping liquid with her sleeve. The cries in the back were now null, the sounds of the crackling fire replacing all. Ophélie turned her gaze, to see the masked knight, the horse behind their tall body as they watched keenly. 

"Did you not do your job? You told me not to care, so leave me be…" Ophélie yelled, playing with the ring on her finger out of habit. The cavalier didn't budge. 

"That ring is beautiful… from your father?"

She shook her head, "No, from my past love… we were supposed to marry," she murmured, standing up. Her optics never left the deceased body of her only parent.

"You know… he never died…"

"What?" Ophélie replied coldly, her face etched with frustration. 

"He never died. Finn... He never died. He escaped…"

"How do you know that? Did you… did you kill him when he escaped?" 

The voice laughed, "No, no. He's alive. He was looking for his sunshine… but now… well…" he paused. Tossing his lance aside, his arms raised to his mask. With a quick snap, the mask raised from his face.

Ophélie gasped, her mouth agape. The feeling of happiness she had buried under her sorrow, and kept down for so long rose in her throat as she choked out an utterance of disbelief. 

Finn stood a ways from her, the mask in his hands. He smiled, his face matured and handsome. Even then, he still looked like himself. The kindly, boisterous, boyish Finn. Her love. Alive. 

"I found you," he said. 

Tossing his mask aside, he ran to her and she to him. Their bodies collided. Ophélie was lifted into the night air and spun around, as tears streamed down her face. 

"I… I thought you were dead!" Ophélie exclaimed, holding his face in her stained hands. His lips found their way to her neck and her cheek, as he leaned forward and nestled his head into her hair. 

"No, sunshine, I could never leave you, ever," he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. 

"God, four years and you're even more beautiful…" he said, looking upon his lover with his charming grin. 

"Finn, I am covered in dirt and blood…" she replied with a giggle.

"Still… I can't believe you're mine… well… were."

"Were? Finnigan… I could never love another man. You are _still_ mine, and always will be. Forever."

Tears rolled down his freckled face, as he kissed his love on the lips, "I missed you Ophélie, so damn much…"

"And I as well…" she whispered, cuddling up against the hard metal of his chest, "It was so hard, Finn… I was so lost without you… I even thought of death…"

Finn frowned, stroking her sunny hair. He pecked her upon the head, his gloved hands wrapping around her body. 

"Don't ever, again. I'm here now, okay? Please… I can't lose you, now that I finally found you."

A tear fell down her cheek, "I won't… I promise."

They stared at one another, searching and yearning for more touch. Finn looked upon his love and sighed. He stroked her backside delicately.

"Sunshine… your father…" he muttered. Ophélie shook her head, pressing a finger to his lips.

"I know… he is gone. I don't want to think of that now. Just… just hold me, please."

And so he did. Surrounded by blood and fire, they held one another. For the first time in four years, they felt safe. They had found one another again amidst the chaos. 

A perfect harmony that could battle the storm. All that was shaded and covered in the deep colour of blue had started to look brighter, finally. 

* * *

A year had passed since Ophélie and Finn rekindled their love. It was no longer forbidden. No longer a secret. It had blossomed more than before. 

Finn suffered from nightmares often, especially of his time in prison. He would yell, and shake--- but all was well in the end with Ophélie at his side. They had changed so much, one would think they felt as though they were strangers, sleeping together in the same bed. But they never felt that way. It was almost as if the tragedy that had struck them and ripped them apart ceased to exist. In their eyes, they saw nothing but beauty and love. 

They were married, and Ophélie swore to rebuild the broken home that she once thought was so perfect. It was odd to her, how blind she was to her father's faults until his clock had stopped ticking. She told the people that she would never be a ruler like her father, one who is ruthless and secretive. One who is prejudiced to those below him. One who could never bend the rules for love. Instead, she would build a village on peace and harmony, with her husband. Together, they would make a revolutionary change and all because a boy and a girl from different classes met and fell in love. 

They still had their flaws and fears. Especially of losing one another again. Finn often questioned whether he deserved such a title, and Ophélie was frightened of becoming a ruler like her father and dying in front of her own offspring. Some days, they could barely move, weak from their experiences that shaped their hearts and minds. Trauma, it left a bitter taste in one's mouth and made one wonder, do I deserve it? Do I deserve the life I live? But the wall of hatred and wickedness that shackled them down crumbled when they saw one another.

Ophélie looked at Finn often, as he talked with the commoners, playful and wise to the young and old. He would never forget his roots, and that is what made him so perfect. He was still so hardworking, a day never passed where he sat idle. Her handsome, confident husband. He was hers.

And he would look at his love, his Ophélie, his sunshine, who he had thought he lost while losing himself in the decrepit jail beneath her home. He would look at her while she watched the sunset and its grandeur colours, reminiscing. She was so beautiful. She would notice his stares and giggle and tease. Her playful banter and soft, warm words healed the ache in his heart. She was his. 

The rain that danced upon their lands reminded Ophélie of her own rain cloud, gone, but never still fully transparent. It reminded her of her fragile state, when they called her a lunatic. She could only imagine what Finn was called when she was not present. That raincloud reminded her of the blue, horrific nightmare she travelled through and how it never seemed to leave. It was a taunting, mean thing. But, that raincloud reminded her of the colour she was… and what her Finn had painted her. Blue and black… faded into pink, orange, and yellow and gold … like a bright, wholesome sunrise. One that people look at and stare at in awe. It reminded her of their past. The pirates, the barrels and sticks… dirty knees, bruises and red cheeks. It reminded her of their love, like a flickering candle. It was once gone, diminished like a faulty wick, but brought back by the miracle of the flame. Whenever they lay together, her head on his beating heart, she couldn't help but smile. It was like a drum, an anthem of the beauty and magnificence that stood for their love. 

And so, whenever it rained upon the rebuilt village, Ophélie asked to dance in that rain. And they always did. At one point in her life, her somber thoughts made her believe no one would ever want to dance her rainstorm ever again. But that was fallacy. Finn did. And she danced in his own storm. People would watch them dance, gawking and staring with confusion as they spun around, soaking wet and giggling like fools. So what if they were fools? They had each other and that's all that mattered.

Now, as she watched over her newly built home, where good and bad had settled upon the hills and forests long ago, she felt the life in her belly growing. With a smile, she hummed a tune and stroked her stomach, looking up at her husband, who smiled back at her with his kind hazelnut eyes, the ones that she always got lost in. Everything around her was a memory, full of life, love and loss. Her people, her father, her own growing child, her Finn. They were all together now. 

And she wouldn't ever change it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> HE AIN'T DEAD. HAHA.
> 
> god i originally wrote these ocs and thought, yup, sorry Finn... but then went... wait shit no too much angst stop. 
> 
> anyways there's that. just a quick lil story abt my children Ophélie and Finnigan. :) hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
